


Superior Tactics

by Sayl



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayl/pseuds/Sayl
Summary: Sometimes, no matter how good you are with a blade, there are better strategic alternatives...Especially when a mounted lancer is charging at you.





	Superior Tactics

_   S H I N K ……………… _

_                                        S H I N K ……………………… _

The whetstone slides across steel in a rhythmic manner as Lon’qu sharpens the edge of his blade. He’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed with the handle resting across his thigh. His gaze is focused, as stony as always but without the usual tension in his jaw. The repetitive motion is calming, and gives him something to concentrate on than his own thoughts.

     Until another person enters the barracks. He doesn’t look up at first, assuming that whoever it was had come to retrieve a weapon and little else. He’s proven wrong though when he hears his name.

    “Hey, Lon’qu! I thought I might find you here.”

     The swordsman pauses, looking up to see the Tactician in the doorway, only peeking in about halfway. Apparently he wasn’t here for weapons, he was searching for him.

    _**“**  Hello, Robin. What did you need from me  **?”**_ Curt as ever, but not harsh. The myrmidon wasn’t one to beat around the bush or make small talk.

    Robin isn’t fazed by his abruptness, instead stepping into the barracks fully. “In that last battle, I noticed you disarmed a lancer, but I didn’t quite catch how you did it. I was hoping you had a few minutes to show me.”

    Lon’qu sets the whetstone aside, shoulders hunched forward as he rests his hand on his thigh. He knows what instance the Tactician is referring to. **_“_** _I am no teacher, but I can show you if you wish **.”**_

Robin’s face lights up slightly, as it usually did when there was knowledge to be gained. “So you’ve told me,” he replies with an amused huff and a small smile. “I learn most from observation, anyway.”

    The swordsman nods, then pushes himself off the ground and onto his feet, taking his sword in hand.  _ **“** Very well  **,”**  _he replies, approaching the nearest weapon rack. He grabs one of the polearms, lifting it from it’s slot before tossing it to the Tactician.  _ **“** Come with me **.”**_

* * *

 A few minutes later, the two find themselves in a clearing just outside the camp. Spear in hand, Robin comes to a stop. A few steps later, Lon’qu does as well, turning to face the other man.

_**“**  It’s not usually a practical maneuver  **,”**_  he admits. **_“_** _The lance has to be in a specific position for it to even be possible…Real warriors know better than to leave themselves vulnerable like that **.”**_  He shows Robin the exact position the lance would need to be in: completely horizontal, centered between the shoulders and hip, extended out slightly, like someone charging with a battering ram.

  “Alright,” Robin replies, holding the lance in the described stance. “Ready when you are.”

  Lon’qu draws his blade, standing at the ready.  _ **“** Charge forward at your discretion…And be ready to let go. Fingers have been broken **.”**_

  The Tactician blinks, but is otherwise unfazed. He adjusts the position of his hold, foot sliding back an inch in preparation. A second later, he’s darting forward. Lon’qu flips the sword in his hand around, gripping the handle in reverse and pointing the blade back behind him. He dashes in headlong, sidestepping the blunt end by a few inches at most. Just as he is almost right beside Robin, his left arm slides forward, wrapping around the lance as his right hand maneuvers the blade of his sword up and back around the iron pole that’s already passed by him. In a swift motion, he locks his arms, the polearm trapped between the crook of his left elbow, lower back, and the back of his blade and twists, tearing the weapon straight out of the tactician’s grasp. Once freed, the swordsman released his hold, allowing it to fly off to the side as he flips his own sword around in his hand, turning on his heel to face his opponent with his blade at the ready. All in all, the entire motion had taken place in just a few short seconds.

   Robin is quiet for just a moment, and it’s apparent in his eyes that he’s playing it over again in his head, analyzing each movement before his gaze snaps back to the here and now. “Incredible!” he commends. “It must have taken you years to perfect that.”

   Lon’qu nods once, but his lips remain downturned. It was hardly perfected, really. If his opponent was stronger than himself, he could end up trapped and vulnerable to attack. Even when he was stronger than the enemy, the action always left some sort of bruising on his inner elbow and the side of his lower back. **_“_** _As I mentioned before, it is hardly practical. Only inexperienced lancers are foolish enough to use such an attack, and it’s useless against other weapons. But it does…have its purposes **.”**_  
  They repeat the action, this time at a slower pace (which Lon’qu honestly found more difficult, since muscle memory had become an essential part of the maneuver). Before Robin can give it a practice run himself, a figure bursts into the clearing from between the tents. Both men turn to see Stahl, looking a little worried (and a little out of breath) as he waves to them. “Robin! Lon’qu! We’ve got trouble!” He shouts. Both pause, looking to the cavalier with expressions of questioning and wariness.   
  “There’s a Valmese Battalion heading straight for us. The others have gone ahead we need to catch up!”  
  Robin and Lon’qu exchange a glance, a mutual nod of agreement between them. Lon’qu tosses the lance aside and re-draws his sword as the three take off toward the enemy.

* * *

   The clashing of steel rings out across the fields like a chorus of thunder. Blood coats the edge of Lon’qu’s blade as he slices through another Valmese warrior, feeling another body at his feet. He’s faring well, despite being on his own, but suddenly the sound of galloping hooves fills his ears. The swordsman throws his gaze over his shoulder in time to see a great knight headed his way, lance in hand. Lon’qu curses under his breath, turning on his heel as he prepares to face an opponent he struggles to topple. He manages to dodge the initial charge, if only barely. The lancehead had been pointed straight at him, but the rider was far too high for a disarm to even be considered. The rider comes back around, weapon behind him now and poised to swing as he barrels at the myrmidon yet again.

  Another close sidestep, but the edge of the blade catches his arm. The swing of his sword simply glinted off the metal armor of the knight, inflicting no damage whatsoever. This was not an ideal matchup in any sense of the word. Lon’qu grabs his bleeding arm with his free hand, still holding his sword at the ready as he turns once again. The great knight turns his steed again, ready for a third attack. Even if Lon’qu dodges, he’s playing a losing game. He grits his teeth, grunting in frustration as he tries to think of a plan of action. But he doesn’t come up with one before the he’s being charged again, deadly end of the weapon pointed at him.

  But before the enemy can reach him, a blast of Thoron comes from seemingly nowhere. A flash of lightning crashes into the knights grip, sending a shockwave of white-hot electricity through the armor and lance. The enemy calls out, immediately dropping his weapon as his spooked steed rears back in a fit of terror. A moment later, a second wave of thunder shoots forward, crashing into the lancer with enough power and force to knock him off his mount. The horse flees, but the man’s body doesn’t move.

  Lon’qu turns his head to see the Tactician standing a few meters away, tome in hand and hand extended outward. He looks to Lon’qu then, they hold the glance for just a moment.

  _**“**  I’d say your strategy is the superior one  **.”**_ The swordsman states, a rare tinge of humor in his words.

   A crooked smile and a cant of the head accompany the shrug Robin sends his way. “A few feet taller and you would have had him.”

  An amused smirk forms on the swordsmans’s face, however brief it might have been. Without a further word, Robin turns to head back into the fray, Lon’qu close behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble I did for my tumblr account. Like the rest.


End file.
